


Long Away

by eleuther



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hot Space Era, Light Angst, Sad Brian May, he's a little unsure of what to do, he's just overthinking, its fine tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 23:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20218132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleuther/pseuds/eleuther
Summary: During Hot Space, Brian is feeling a little down. Then, John writes Back Chat.





	Long Away

**Author's Note:**

> hello, this has been sitting on my computer for weeks now. I am mostly okay with how it turned out I just suck at writing Freddie so bad. I'm working on it, really. I am writing the band as characters, not them as people. I know absolutely nothing, this probably didn't happen like at all. Anyway, please enjoy!

**Munich 1981**

Brian watched with cold eyes as his bandmates recorded that _awfully_ catchy song that was so obviously about him. 

Fucking Back Chat. John had looked so pleased with himself when he’d shown them the lyrics and Freddie was all too excited to begin recording. He hadn’t explicitly said it was about Brian, but none of them were stupid. Those damn lyrics were so obvious and really, they got him thinking. 

Was he really that bad? _Criticizing all you see, Analyzing what I say…_ thinking back, he may have been a bit harsh at certain moments. But they were all like that! They rarely, if ever, agreed on something in the studio. Roger was always saying something about some song; _this is too slow, that lyric is awful why have it in a rock n’ roll song?_ Yeah, they were always disagreeing and fighting to change things in each other's songs. It always worked out in the end, though. So what had warranted John to write a song about _him_ specifically? 

Of course, John had been all too happy to exclaim that “there’s no guitar in this song!” 

(There was, but he would be playing it himself.)

So there Brian sat, glaring angrily at his supposed best friends, singing and playing happily to a song that was written specifically to wound him. He sighed; maybe it was true though. They’re all critical, sure, but he could see what John meant. That maybe he was worse, demanding solos in every song, going on and on about how much better it would be to include one (or two, three…). 

Maybe he just wanted the validation; his parents weren’t exactly thrilled with his decision to drop his studies. Maybe he just wanted them to be proud of what he’s accomplishing, instead of making it a point to ask about when he would go back to school every time he stopped home. 

They finished another track and decided it was time for a break. Brian really didn’t want to sit there and listen to how great this session was going. 

(So what if they hadn’t argued over anything so far? It didn’t mean he was the problem… right?)

He stood abruptly and made his way down the hall to the bathroom. It wasn’t the safest spot, but they all tended to choose hunger over anything else after a long morning and figured he had some time before they came in there themselves. He slumped against the counter and sighed. Maybe all of this was a sign; maybe it was time he went back to his studies. If the people he thought he’d be stuck with forever were sick of him he should probably just throw in the towel. 

_This is all so fucked_, he thought. 

In truth, this album had been… difficult, to say the least. They were acting worse than ever before, saying things they’d never mean in a million years but still took too seriously. Brian was already a mess mentally, not that he’d told them that, and this wasn’t making it any better. 

Brian flinched when he looked up and saw a shell of himself in the mirror. No, he was most definitely not okay right now and the aggravation between him and his three best friends was not making it any better. His face was sunken in and it reminded him that he hadn’t really eaten or slept properly in a few days. Tears welled in his eyes and he furiously wiped them away. It would do no good to cry now, it would just look like he couldn’t take what he dished out. 

His mind wandered from the song to his disappointed parents to his failing marriage and he suddenly found himself holding back gut-wrenching sobs. 

Really he wasn’t sure he could take another hit. 

*

Roger wandered down the hall, wondering where the guitarist had gone. He hadn’t looked happy at the fact that he was sitting this one out, or maybe it was at the obvious fact that the song was about him. _Probably both_, he mused. 

He peeked his head into the bathroom, not really expecting him to be there because he’d been gone so long but who knows; maybe he’d gotten sick. 

He definitely wasn’t expecting to find his best friend crying in the mirror. 

Roger tentatively pushed the door open. “Bri? You alright?” 

Brian shot up and glanced at the drummer, then quickly averted his eyes. Roger was more confused than anything at that; he wasn’t the most open person but he’d never purposely hid his pain from any of them. If they found him like this he’d let them help. And now he was furiously wiping his eyes as if he hadn’t been caught already.

“Bri? Seriously, I’m worried. What happened?” 

“What do you mean ‘what happened?’ You know damn well what’s got me so stupidly worked up,” he started, though the rest was mumbled as if Roger wasn’t supposed to hear. “Of course right now, this would happen. My parents are still upset over a decision I made years ago, my marriage is falling into shambles and now it’s likely you’re all tired of me if you don’t outright despise me.” 

He let out a long sigh and looked back in the mirror. Eyes widening at the sight of the blonde still behind him, he turned around and began apologizing.

“Sorry, god, that was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have just dumped that shit on you. I’ll just, um, head back out there.” He waited to see if maybe Roger would say something, but he just stared, something Brian couldn’t name in his eyes. He gave a small nod. “Right.” 

Brian made his way to the door, head down. He hoped he could hide the fact that he was crying; the last thing he wanted was for John or Freddie to see and think he couldn’t handle a little criticism. 

“I’m sorry,” Roger said. “We didn’t - I didn’t say anything. We noticed something was off, but this stupid album has been - ya know what? I’m not even going to make excuses. We knew something was wrong and that you don’t come to us for help, even though you should. So, I’m sorry. For all of us. We haven’t been the best of friends lately.” 

“None of us have, Rog. It’s not your fault. We’ve all been difficult lately. John’s right, with his stupid song. I’m too critical about everything to do with our music. And I shouldn’t dish out what I can’t take back. You don’t have to apologize.” 

With that, Brian turned and walked out. He didn’t want to hear any more apologies over something that was mostly his own fault. 

*

He’d left early. It was logical, really, because he had nothing to do and he really should catch up on some sleep. He was sure the others would understand, especially since he now knew they could tell something was wrong. At least this way he had a chance to cool down and he wouldn’t have to listen to his bandmates sing about how difficult he was to deal with. He would go back tomorrow refreshed and ready to finish this horror show of an album. 

At least, that was the plan. He was this close to falling asleep when a loud banging on his hotel door woke him up. He wanted to groan and tell whoever it was to leave but something could be wrong and he’d never forgive himself if it was something drastic. So he forced himself up and to the door. He definitely wasn’t expecting his frantic bandmates.

“Wha-? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” That’s the only reason they’d be knocking on his door. 

“No! No, everything’s fine. We just…” Roger trailed off and looked at John and Freddie, unsure of where to start. 

_Oh_, Brian thought. He could see where this was going. They really were sick of him and their awkward demeanor was a dead giveaway. He had hoped they could at least finish the album before they kicked him to the curb but what was he really doing on it anyway? 

He cleared his throat before nodding slightly and opening the door a little more to let them in. 

“What’s running through your head, darling?” Freddie asked once they’d settled, and were they really going to make him say it? There had been moments where they said some cruel things out of anger but this? This was another level he had never thought he’d see from his soon-to-be former bandmates. 

Brian glanced between the three of them; John was looking awkwardly at the floor and Roger looked guilty, probably because he had told them about what happened earlier. Freddie was staring imploringly into his eyes, nothing but kindness in them. It was completely contradictory to the situation.

“Bri? What’s wrong?” Roger asked.

“Oh, um. Nothing. What do you need?” he replied. 

The three looked at each other as if confirming their plan before Freddie cleared his throat. 

“Look, darling, we just wanted to apologize. We haven’t been as attentive to each other during this album. We should have checked on you when we first saw something wrong. So, we’re sorry. All of us.” Freddie finished speaking and looked to John, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Look, Brian, I’m not sorry about the song. You’re a real prat in the studio and sometimes out of it and I think we all needed to hear it. However, you’re still our best friend and we love you. Fred’s right, we should have at least made an effort in making sure you were alright.” John really looked apologetic, they all did, and as much as Brian appreciated their sentiment he was a bit confused. He opened his mouth to say so but figured it was better not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“What is it, love?” Freddie asked and he suddenly wondered when it came to this; questioning his place in both life and music, his place with his friends, when they so obviously cared for him. 

“Nothing,” he replied with a smile. “I appreciate you all coming to me. I, uh, know I’m not the easiest to deal with, especially in the studio so thank you. And John, really, you’re song is catchy. I’m sure it’ll do well.” He gave another smile and hoped it would be enough to either get to the point or leave. 

Roger finally looked up from where he’d been staring at his lap.

“Would you have said anything? If I hadn’t found you in the bathroom?” he asked. 

“Have I ever?”

“Eventually. Look, Bri, just because we’ve had more disagreements than usual about this album doesn’t mean we don’t care. Any other time and at this point you’d be spilling your guts about what's wrong, but right now you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” The blonde tilted his head and reached for his hand. “What’s going on, Brian? Right now, in your head. You look like you’ve just accepted your death or something.” 

Brian looked down at his lap; they were really going to make him say it. He felt so stupid now because at this point it didn’t look like they were really going to kick him out, at least not yet, but he can’t help the thoughts running through his head. And maybe he’s a little afraid that if he says they’ll agree, even if that wasn’t really their motivation tonight. 

“I thought…” he stopped and took in a shaky breath. “I thought you were going to kick me out of the band.” The end was mumbled and he was sure they didn’t really hear him, but Freddie’s sharp intake of breath said otherwise. 

“Oh, darling no! Never, we could never. What on earth made you think that?” The singer looked almost hurt by the suggestion and Brian suddenly felt bad. He didn’t even want to look at the other’s faces. This wasn’t happening as he thought at all and while he’s glad for the reassurance of his place in the band, he wonders if he should leave anyway. He’s obviously causing them quite a bit of distress - 

“Bri? Where’d you go, love?” 

He finally looked up and saw them all - his best friends, who’d never abandon him no matter how angry or frustrated - staring and waiting, all kind eyes and curiosity. 

“Nowhere. I’m just thinking.” He smiled, a little tight but still genuine. “Thank you all, really. I just got a little stuck in my head. We can really talk once we finish recording if you’d like.” 

“Of course,” John said. “Whatever you want.”

He gave another small smile. They sat in silence for a moment, somewhere between awkward and comfortable. Eventually, they trickled out of the room, each hugging him tightly. Freddie gave him a kiss on the cheek and a reassuring smile that made him feel minutely better for just a moment. 

When he does lay back down he feels better, but not completely; like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. A few tears slip out as he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos I need validation !!!


End file.
